When Circumstances Clash
by Lore or mess
Summary: On a simple mission to secure a weapon on a cruise liner, Alex realizes that there's more to the job when thieves, assassins and numerous governmental agencies start poking their noses in. Plus, a new player has MI6 running in circles. OCs, Xovers, slash.
1. 1: Meeting

**When Circumstances Clash**

By: Lore or mess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider, I just write fanfictions. Anything else that seems familiar is either a feature from my other fics or utter coincidence.

Warnings: This story may contain homosexual relationships. If you are offended by this or in any way feel uncomfortable, you have the choice to continue reading or forego reading this story. The choice is yours. However, I will not entertain any sort of derogatory comments made concerning this issue. This warning has been posted.

**I: **_**Cōnsilium**_** - Meeting**

'_Three entrances doubling as exits. Plenty of cover spaces. Bulletproof glass. Disguised security. Judging by the room, at least four or five hidden cameras somewhere on the ceiling.'_

"—heard from your father that you've returned from France, I said to him that he simply had to bring you along for the cruise. It's been such a long time that hardly any of us recognize you. Why, I remember when you were only six years old, your father would—"

Alex turned his smile up a notch as his attention returned to the men in front of him, seemingly never having looked away at all.

"Yes, it has been a long time. France is such a beautiful and unique country that I loathe to leave it even for short times. Father understands of course. But now that I've finished my secondary education, mother insists that I return to my homeland. She was never very fond of the French." Alex was careful to allow a little of his French accent to tint his words, playing by his cover perfectly.

"Yes, the French. What can we say about them? They are different—…"

Alex tuned out the prattling man as he subtly surveyed the party lounge once more. There were quite a number of people milling about. Businessmen, millionaires, trophy wives, platinum-class escorts,… it was all about the image with these people. Luckily, Alex's cover, well, _covered_ that part of his concern.

Basil Maitland. Only son of Abel and Richardine Maitland. The family dealt in real estate all around Europe and was estimated to be worth around several billion euros. Basil had attended boarding schools in France ever since he was seven and seldom, if ever, returns to England. From MI6's latest surveillance, he was reported to have short blonde hair and blues eyes with a lean build. Barring the need for a pair of coloured contact lenses, it was the perfect disguise for Alex. Basil was rich enough that people won't bother him too much and was absent from England for so long that most people who knew the real Basil wouldn't question his appearance.

'_It's perhaps the best cover MI6 had provided me with yet'_, thought Alex as nodded to whatever the man in front of him said. The man was Reuben Tishkoff, a supremely wealthy Las Vegas casino and hotel owner. Next to the American stood Francois Toulour, a French nobleman with a penchant for extreme sports, and Kaito Nakamura, president of an international Japanese company, Yamagato Industries. They were supposedly friends of Basil's father and had all met the young Basil before he'd gone to France. Alex was really glad that he'd bothered to read up on his inch thick mission briefing before coming to the party. Or he'd be in big trouble right now.

"—and then we find out that the whole fuss was about the wine being a '73 and not a '63. Really, you French and your wine." Reuben shook his head fondly at Francois.

"You would not understand unless you know what it means to be a connoisseur of good drink. It takes skill, experience and passion, my friend. Not something every American has, I'm afraid." Francois sniffed semi-seriously.

"Ah, wine… well, one can never go wrong with champagne. It's fortunate that you're old enough to drink now eh, Basil?...... oh, look here. Renatus!"

Alex half turned to see another boy about his age coming towards them, having heard Reuben's hailing. He had dark hair, jet black, and icy blue eyes which almost seemed to reflect light with their intensity. His tuxedo was quite obviously tailored and clung to his body. Alex noticed that he walked with a grace similar to his own, light but confident, the prowl of a fighter hidden behind elegant strides.

The boy's presence was a surprise. Alex had assumed that all the passengers on the cruise would be adults, or at least, older than him. A high class cruise ship was not the usual haunt of teenage boys after all. Then again, Alex reasoned that if Basil could be here, so could other kids of the super rich.

The boy came to a stop before him and the three men. Blue eyes flicked across each one, pausing slightly at Alex before returning to Reuben, all the while a polite smile on his face. A practiced action, Alex noted.

"Renatus! It's been a long time. I hadn't expected to see you here. Last I heard, you were off skiing in the Alps with friends." Reuben exclaimed happily.

"Hello, Uncle Reuben, Monsieur Toulour, Nakamura-san. Yes, it has been a long time. And actually, I had not planned to come on this cruise. But there were some last minutes changes and father was busy so I came for mother's peace of mind. She was concerned I did not spend enough time away from school work."

"That's your mother for you. Always such a concerned soul. I remember when she'd heard that I had had a minor illness back a couple of years ago and she sent an entire fridge of traditional medicinal cures for me. Bless her soul. But that's a story for another time. Ren, my dear boy, do you remember Basil? You two used to play together when you were both younger. Got into a lot of trouble too, if I recalled correctly."

'_Shit.__ The briefing said nothing about this. Then again, I suppose it can't be helped. MI6 couldn't have known that he would be here. '_

It was unexpected and it was bad, but Alex let none of it show on his face. He was still pretty confident he could pull this encounter off without blowing his cover. He had to.

Renatus turned to him in what seemed like surprise. Two pairs of blue eyes, one artificial and one real, clashed for several moments. Renatus said nothing, just watching Alex and Alex, who was starting to feel slightly tense, quickly pasted a charming smile on his face.

"Basil Maitland." He said, formally extending a hand.

Renatus blinked once before accepting the handshake, smiling graciously. "Yes, of course. Renatus Helesande. I don't suppose you remember me either?"

Alex made his smile apologetic. "No, sorry."

The other teenager waved the apology away. "Don't be. It is not your fault neither of us remembers something which supposedly happened when we were mere children."

Alex chuckled lightly, relieved that a disaster had been avoided. He mentally thanked the fact that Basil didn't seem to have very many English friends, or he'd be screwed even before the mission started. Speaking of which, it was perhaps time for him to take his leave from the party.

After waiting for a few more minutes while making small talk with several people who knew his 'family' in passing, Alex casually made his way towards one of the lounge entrances. He managed to slip away unnoticed to one of the elevators. As soon as the polished doors closed in front of him, he let out a soft sigh. Pretending to be the son of a rich person in the middle of a bunch of rich people wasn't easy, but he'd done it before. He rather thought he did quite well this time considering his past two days on the cruise.

It's been close to two years since his little altercation with Scorpia which ended in Julia Rothman's death and the structural fracturing of the terrorist organization. MI6 had nearly given him a medal for that one. Unfortunately, they couldn't because Alex Rider didn't exist. And theoretically, he wasn't even an MI6 agent since his name was not on any of their databases. But in all practical means, he was one of their best spies. Or so he'd been told. The last three years has seen him completing more than 25 missions with only one or two failures. His life had changed quite dramatically since then. Jack, his housekeeper, was still with him but he no longer went to a government managed school. Instead, he had private tutors who taught him whenever he was home from missions and didn't have to be in the hospital. The syllabus he learned had been changed to accommodate his 'work' and some of it wasn't appropriate for teenagers not of his position. All of it was, of course, paid by MI6. Along with his 'salary', Alex had quite a bank account for a teen. Not that he'd ever had the time or need to use the money. Between missions, rest, rehab and lessons, he didn't have any time for vacations and the latest gadgets were always provided to him before he set out.

His life had become one methodically planned pattern with only a splattering of divergences. However, that was not to say that he was unhappy. Somewhere along the line, Alex had learned to like his job. Yes, spying was intruding, dishonest, deceitful, but he did it for a positive purpose. Someone had to do the dirty work so that the government could prevent bigger problems. And Alex just so happens to be someone who was really good at that. He had come to this conclusion sometime after the Scorpia ordeal. After setting things right with MI6, he'd agreed to work for them but they still kept him off-file because it wasn't actually legal to make a teenager a spy. Needless to say, Jack hadn't been pleased. But Alex had gotten her to understand that this was what he wanted and she'd at least accepted that.

So, here he was then, on another mission. This time, the location was aboard a posh cruise liner on route across the North Sea from the UK to Sweden, stopping briefly at Denmark. The passengers were all members of the 'very wealthy' class which constituted to the identity of his cover. Alex's purpose, as far as MI6 had told him, was to confirm the presence of a certain item and possibly guard it before alerting headquarters so that the big guys could come and do the actually 'busting the bad guy' act. He'd been told to try and keep his cover away from the entire hullabaloo if he could help it. It would be a huge mess if anyone onboard the cruise mentioned that Basil Maitland had been involved in the operation in any way when in reality, the boy was probably just enjoying a croissant in an (expensive) French café.

But back to the matter at hand, Alex was to locate one Sam Isaacs, an American scientist who had a permanent residency in the UK. He was reportedly working on developing new field weapons for the British army, but MI6 had intelligence otherwise. One of their agents stationed in Russia informed them that a prominent radical organization there had made plans for a 'transaction' with Isaacs. The details were not forthcoming but the agent knew enough to deduce that the Russians were paying Isaacs an enormous amount of money in exchange for the newest weapon he'd formulated. And there were vague hints that it wasn't just any simple weapon but one capable of destruction at a devastating scale. The agent was able to determine that Isaacs planned to fly to Saratov from Halland once he reached Sweden. Alex's job was to prevent that from happening.

The elevator chimed softly as it reached Alex's destination. Giving a swift glance in both directions and seeing no one, he casually made his way down the long and lavish corridor to room 1706. The past two days of the cruise had seen him hacking into the cruiser's mainframe computer to check the lists of passengers and infiltrating cabins to steal the necessary duplicate card keys. When he'd left the party earlier, Alex had made sure that Isaacs was busy talking to one of the guests and wouldn't inadvertently stumble upon him while he was doing his job.

Slipping the card key out from the pocket of his trousers, he slotted it through the computed lock beside the door and let himself in.

_~~~~~~~ When Circumstances Clash ~~~~~~~_

Renatus watched through the corner of his half-lidded eyes as the other teen slipped out of the party lounge. He waited several moments before politely excusing himself from the cheerful socialite who'd been accompanying him. Walking out to one of the more private balconies above the deck, he let an amused smile grace his face as he lazily speed-dialed a number on his mobile.

The tone rang twice before a familiar, heavily accented masculine voice answered.

"**Ren! Salut mec, ça boume?"** (Ren! Hey man, how's it going?)

"**Géant. Comment ça va, Basil?"** (Great. How are you, Basil?)

"**Super! Gabrielle, elle s'est fait tatouer—…"** (Super! Gabrielle, she got a tattoo—…)

The conversation continued for several moments, the person on the other end of the line chatting away speedily in French.

"… **oh, nothing. Just wondering about some things…… Like how it'd be good to see you on English soil again, now that your school's out…… Yes, I know…… So no chance of you coming back, huh?...... I suppose I could… no, can't. Father has me hopping all over Europe, working…… *laughs*…… ****No, it's fine. I like my job……. Well, good to hear from you. Send my love to your family and kiss Gabrielle for me…… Tchao." **

Ending the call and slipping the mobile back into his tuxedo's inner pocket, Renatus turned and gracefully made his way back to his suite.

It was certainly interesting how the day had turned out.

Entering his suite, he moved through the extravagantly decorated sitting room to his bedroom, pausing only to shrug out of his jacket and leave it hanging over the back of an armchair near the bedroom door. He went over to his laptop sitting on a table near the room's glass balcony doors, which opened to reveal the vast North Sea. The sounds of shuffling cloth and a soft moan coming from the direction of his bed did nothing to distract him as he quickly set up the device and waited for it to finish loading.

Just as the screen cleared to ask for his password, a strong pair of arms came from behind him and tightened around his waist, pulling him back into a hard chest. Lips pressed against his ear for a moment before they lowered to suck lightly on his neck.

"Hey, baby." Kiss, nibble. "How was the party?"

Barely responding to the ministrations of his naked lover behind him, Renatus stoically typed in the password to his computer. "Boring. Same old round-the-champagne-bottle party."

"Did you meet anyone interesting?" It was obviously a pointless question and one asked merely for the sake of asking, as the person behind him very clearly had no interest in the answer.

Renatus thought a moment, and smiled. "Yes, actually. There was someone."

In the meanwhile, his lover had managed to get rid of his bow-tie and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt. Teeth latched onto the exposed skin of the junction between his neck and shoulder the moment the shirt was shifted away.

"Hmm? Who?" His lover didn't wait for an answer. "You should have invited him back with you. Then the three of us could have had some fun."

Renatus frowned slightly before twisting around in his lover's embrace, momentarily disregarding his laptop. Grasping the chin in front of him, he tilted it down to examine his lover's eyes. The pupils were dilated and his lover's gaze was somewhat unfocused.

"You're still high." Renatus stated, rather than questioned, unhappily.

A sound sounding suspiciously like a giggle escaped the taller man. "Maybe." Then, before Renatus had a chance to voice his disapproval, he jerked the shorter Renatus flush against his unclothed body and shamelessly attacked his neck.

"You told me it wouldn't last this long." Renatus deadpanned, clearly displeased that his lover was still under the effect of drugs.

"Different metabolism rates, love."

To that, Renatus remained silent as his lover proceed to suck on every inch of exposed skin his mouth could reach while his hands gained free reign over Renatus's body. He allowed the taller man several more moments before pushing him firmly away when the man started to moan and grind lightly against him.

"Get it out of your system. Take a shower." He ordered softly.

His lover frowned, dissatisfied. "Don't want a shower. I want _you_." He made to protest more but Renatus silenced him with a kiss and a caress across the back of his neck.

"I've got work, Tax."

Tax made a sound similar to a whine before sighing and slinking away to the en suite. Renatus watched his naked form go before turning back to his laptop. He opened several programmes, which required more passwords, then sat back to watch as a window on his screen partitioned into four, each showing a different view of a guest's room. It had audio even.

A smile broke across Renatus's face.

'_Show time.' _

_~~~~~~~ When Circumstances Clash ~~~~~~~_

Alex was frustrated. He'd searched the bed, the cupboards, the cabinets, the bathroom… he even went so far as to peel back the carpets to see if the object he was looking for was a compact disc hidden under there. But no. Nothing. Yes, he was frustrated.

Looking around the room once more, Alex was very aware that time was running short and that the party was due to end soon. He had to hurry if he wanted to avoid detection. Worse come to worse, he'd had to leave without securing the object and come back another time. He still had another day to try again, even though by all calculations, this was his best chance to get the mission done. It would help if he actually knew what he was looking for in the first place.

Huffing slightly in aggravation, Alex prepared to leave when a slight irregularity caught his eye. Turning, he tilted his head at the shoe rack next to the door. Sandals, sneakers, dress shoes, trainers and a variety of other shoes were clustered together on the left side of the rack. It was… an odd sight. After searching through the scientist's room, Alex had been given the impression that Isaacs was a very neat person, bordering on OCD. So it was very unusual for him to leave his shoes looking so… bunched together. Staring at it a moment longer, he realized that no matter how many pairs of shoes there were, stacked together, they shouldn't have made such a high pile. Suspiciously, he kneeled down in front of the rack and carefully moved the various pairs of shoes aside. And there it sat, before his face, a thick black briefcase. Non-descript and sealed with an in-built combination lock which even then still required a key.

'_Paranoid much?' _

Lifting the case out, Alex gingerly laid it on the bed and inspected it a moment. He didn't have the slightest clue for the code and he would bet money that the key was somewhere on Isaacs's person. There was no way he would be able to open it right now. Worrying his lower lip, he considered his immediate choices……

_~~~~~~~ When Circumstances Clash ~~~~~~~_

Jason checked his harness and equipment one more time before nodding to himself. There was room for mistakes in this part of the operation but he'd prefer if there wasn't. What would it say for his reputation if there were? Not that there would be anyone to see it. Still.

Relaxing the descender, he allowed for a slow fall, bouncing off the side of the cruiser. He was careful to keep from possible observation from the various balconies on either side of him. Arriving at his destination, he slowed his descent and maneuvered himself over to where he could see past the thick curtains at the sides of the balcony.

Shock.

'_A kid?' _

Jason watched in quiet bewilderment as a blonde teenager, perhaps eighteen or nineteen years old, kneeled by the side of the bed, seemingly tinkering with a thick black briefcase.

This wasn't right. It wasn't what he had agreed to. The contract said a middle aged brunette man, not a goddamn teenager. He was supposed to eliminate the target, dump the body into the ocean, retrieve the case, and leave with no one the wiser. He hadn't agreed to take out collateral damage. Of course, under normal circumstances, he would. It would only be a matter of making it look like a heated disagreement gone bad. In his line of work, witnesses were liabilities which often came back to bite him in the ass. But he hadn't consented to killing children. Even considering what he did for a living, Jason Bourne still had some morals. And snuffing the life out of teenagers was definitely against them.

Inside the room, the blonde boy sighed silently. He seemed to be having difficulties getting the briefcase to open. Jason pursed his lips.

'_Change of plans then. Get the case, scare off the kid — he's probably just some nosy brat, anyway —__ and finish the other guy later.' _

It sounded like a plan. But it was a really weak one. _'Ah well'_, Jason decided. He'll just have to play it by ear.

_~~~~~~~ When Circumstances Clash ~~~~~~~_

Renatus watched as 'Basil' kneeled in front of the shoe rack. He had enjoyed himself immensely earlier as he observed the blonde's meticulous but nonetheless fruitless attempts at discovering the briefcase. He hadn't been able to contain his chuckles when the boy had peeled back the carpets to check for god-knows-what. It was honestly quite ridiculous, watching the other teen work his way through the room. But it was all good entertainment and it seemed that the blonde had finally found what he was looking for when he'd been prepared to leave. Fortunate too, or Renatus doubted that the rest of his day would be quite as amusing.

Sounds of movement from behind him caused Renatus to turn his head slightly. He watched as Tax moved across the room towards their joint wardrobe, clad only in a short white towel around his waist. He watched as Tax clothed himself in black slacks and a navy blue shirt, leaving the top few buttons undone to reveal a tanned and toned chest. Dressed like that, with his clothes clinging to his body in just the right places, Renatus wasn't too sure some people wouldn't kill for Tax if he asked them to.

Oblivious to the thoughts running through his lover's mind, Tax moved towards the night stand where he'd left his diamond studded crucifix last night. Ducking his head slightly, he clasped it around his neck before adding a silver chain bracelet around his left wrist. Running a hand through his damp hair, he let it fall in its natural messy pattern, a finger checking on the stud in his ear before turning around.

Renatus eyes followed his lover's movements and fell onto the small but elaborate crucifix around Tax's neck. It was hard to believe that the other teen was a devout… semi-devout Catholic when one remembered the things he did. But that fact was made significant every time they were together. Tax always, _always_ took the chain off before they had sex. It amused Renatus whenever he thought about it.

Looking up, he caught the look his lover was sending him along with a raised eyebrow. Replying with a lazy smile, Renatus leaned back into his armchair and crooked a finger at Tax in a 'come here' motion. His lover obeyed and leaned over him with his hands resting on the armrests.

Their kiss was slow and sensual. Tongues tasting, teasing and bantering with each other. Mouths moving with familiarity. It was engaging and it was controlled. Whatever remainder of the drugs in Tax's body had been processed and he was back in balance again. This made evident when they parted for breath and Tax smiled at him with his signature half smirk.

"You look nice." Renatus hummed appreciatively. Sometime during their kiss, Tax had ended up between his legs and his hands around Tax's slim waist.

Tax laughed softly, voice husky from their proximity. "You've had your chance. Now I'm going to look for someone who actually wants my services."

Renatus paused only a moment. "Client?" Tax had acted nonchalant but Renatus hadn't missed it when he'd tucked a small sachet into his pocket earlier.

Tax only smiled, if somewhat apologetically.

"Don't get caught." Renatus warned half-seriously.

"Give me some credit." Tax said, not even bothering to look mock offended as he leaned down for another kiss before straightening. "I'll leave you to your 'work'."

As Tax left, Renatus turned his attention back to his laptop. 'Basil' was still fiddling unsuccessful with the briefcase in one of the views. On the top right view, a moving shadow had fallen onto the side of the balcony.

Renatus smiled almost gleefully.

_~~~~~~~ When Circumstances Clash ~~~~~~~_

Alex had just decided to take the briefcase with him, codes be damned, when a glimpse of a shadow made his head snap up towards the room's balcony. Standing there was a man clad in unremarkable clothes and a balaclava over his face. In his hand, a shiny black Beretta, complete with silencer, gleamed at him in mockery.

'_Oh, shit.' _

Now, in situations like these, Alex had three choices: Offense, Defense, or Not-At-All; his own tried and proven special formula.

First option: Offense…… No, he didn't think so. The moment he caught sight of the intruder, Alex had immediately taken stock of his apparel and weapons. It was a skill spying had pounded into his consciousness till it had become an instinct, one which had saved him time, effort and on some occasions, his life before. Right now, the man in front of him not only had a very polished and silenced Beretta pointed at him, he had a large and wicked looking knife strapped to his waist. A harness for abseiling hung around his lower torso, the answer as to how he'd managed to enter from the balcony. Also, though he wasn't overly muscular, Alex was experienced enough to comprehend the fact that getting physical with the visibly strapping man probably wouldn't be a very bright idea. And since he himself was comparatively empty handed, Smithers' gadgets not-withstanding, the choice was out.

So, second option: Defense. This option is usually left for when the bad guys come crashing in, guns a-blazing. Well, in the half a second they'd stared at each other, the man had yet to shoot him and it was not as though there were a lot of places to use as cover anyway. And again, fat lot of good defense will do when he was as weaponless as he was now.

Last option: Not-At-All. There was another name for this option; Operation Act Dumb. Most of the time, people (cops, spies and assassins alike) don't expect teenagers to be in the places they usually find Alex in. Operation Act Dumb takes advantage of that fact. Alex's name and face is probably one of the most unrecorded in governmental databases. It makes his job easy. So it was very likely that he could get away with acting like a dumb teenager who was at the wrong place at the wrong time. At the very least, it would buy him some time to improvise.

In the one second it took Alex to come to this decision, the man had made it into the room proper.

Alex threw up his hands, plastering a fearful expression on his face. "Don't kill me!"

The man paused several feet away from the bed. "Up and away from the bed, kid."

Alex did as he said, getting shakily to his feet and playing the terrified teenager role. The man leaned over the bed carefully, keeping both eyes and gun on him while he slowly dragged the briefcase across the dark green duvet towards himself. Alex forced himself to not look at the case and stare frightfully at the gun instead.

The man seemed to deliberate for a moment before asking, "What are you doing here?"

Alex licked his lips slightly before replying. The man's voice had no accent and didn't sound very old. Perhaps late twenties or early thirties. A thief? Assassin? Not a very good contract killer if he was one, letting a witness live this long. Not that Alex wasn't grateful. Then again, maybe he planned to kill him after he was sure that Alex was the only one who knew about whatever was inside that case.

"I was— I umm… I n-needed money and uh… the man looked like an easy target…"

The man was silent after his little admission. Dark brown eyes stared at him piercingly. The quiet stretched on with the gun still trained on him, neither person moving. Alex could feel his muscles tensing. If the man planned to shoot him, he wanted to be sure that he could at least move so that the bullet hit a less vital area instead of his chest. He remembered very clearly how much _that_ hurts. Letting lose his anxiety, Alex could feel adrenalin flowing through his blood stream. It made his act more convincing that his breath was coming faster, his face pale and a slight sheen of sweat was visible on his forehead.

After what felt like an eternity, the man spoke.

"You tell no one about this—"

"I won't, I swear!" Alex answered quickly, allowing a pleading look to overtake his features.

The man paused. "Good. Because I'll be around." Then he motioned towards the door with the Beretta. "Go."

Alex looked nervous for a moment. "Y-you're not going to shoot me the moment I turn around, are you?"

The man scowled and emitted what sounded like a low, irritated growl. He lowered the Beretta so that it pointed more towards Alex's knees and jerked his head towards the door in a 'Get going!' sort of motion.

Alex allowed himself to look relieved and slowly but anxiously inched towards the door. Inwardly, he was debating on what he should do next. There was no way he was getting the case now; he wasn't suicidal and his luck could only get him so far. And once the man left, it would be almost impossible to search him out from the three hundred passengers on the cruiser. But one thing was for sure. The briefcase was very likely what MI6 was looking for. Why else would someone send an armed thief to steal it? Which also told Alex another thing. Someone besides the Russians, MI6 and Isaacs knew about the weapon. The picture was probably bigger than what they'd been led to believe. But either way, MI6 should be able to clear this mess up. All he had left to do was return to his suite, call up his bosses and let them do the rest. As long as they secured the cruiser before it reached land, it would only be a matter of searching through the entire ship. It wouldn't matter then who had the weapon.

With that thought in mind, Alex finally turned to go when a dreaded sound made him freeze.

The doorknob was turning. And a moment later, the door swished open to show the shocked face of one Dr. Sam Isaacs.

'_Oh,__… shit.' _

**Author's Note:** Well, I don't really have a good excuse for starting a new story when my other ones are suffering from lack of updates. But I just couldn't help myself when I visited the Alex Rider community and saw the utter discard of potential there. I just had to. And I had a lot of fun writing this. I hope the feeling lasts. I have some ideas for the story line but for the moment, WCC is more of a stress reliever for me during my final exams. Reviews will be very much appreciated.

I wonder if anyone recognizes the myriad of movies/series characters I've infused into this fic. There will be a lot of cameo appearances here in WCC. Have fun trying to identify them. The answers, for every appearance in each chapter, will be posted by the next update following that chapter.


	2. 2: Convolution

**When Circumstances Clash**

By: Lore or mess.

Disclaimer: I don't own Alex Rider, I just write fanfictions. Anything else that seems familiar is either a feature from my other fics or utter coincidence.

Warnings: This story may contain homosexual relationships. If you are offended by this or in any way feel uncomfortable, you have the choice to continue reading or forego reading this story. The choice is yours. However, I will not entertain any sort of derogatory comments made concerning this issue. This warning has been posted.

**I****I: **_**Spīra**_** - Convolution**

All three people froze. Isaacs took one look at the two of them, turned tail and fled. Jason cursed under his breath and whipped after him, pushing the blond kid roughly out of the way, the heavy briefcase clutched in one hand, Beretta in another. Even as he burst out of the doorway, skidding, Isaacs had managed to run the length of the corridor and turned out of sight before Jason could get an accurate aim. Cursing again, Jason gave chase, knowing that if Isaacs got away, there'll be one hell of a mess.

_~~~~~~~ When Circumstances Clash ~~~~~~~_

Alex stumbled as the thief pushed past him, gun raised again. He'd barely managed to regain his balance before the man ran out of the room, cursed, and tore down the corridor, presumably chasing . Alex debated if he should follow, then decided against it. For one thing, he might get caught in any crossfire and if they ran into any occupied area, he might get recognized as Basil Maitland. That will create more trouble than he was willing to face. Besides, he had no reason to follow them. If he did, he would lose his credibility as the clueless teenager who broke into another guest's room solely for the purpose of burglary. No, the smart thing to do now was to return to his suite and call MI6. He had as close to proof as he could get on the existence of the weapon and there was little else he could do now except wait for them to get there.

Giving one last glance around the empty room, Alex closed the door behind himself and quickly left before anyone else came along.

_~~~~~~~ When Circumstances Clash ~~~~~~~_

Renatus's shoulders shook with mirth as he watched the frozen stare-off between the three people on the screen. He didn't bother holding in his chuckles when Jason lunged past 'Basil' and sped down the corridor, moving out of range of the hidden cameras he had bugged the scientist's room with earlier. Coughing slightly to control his laughter, he minimized the window portraying the room and opened a new programme which had previously hacked into the cruiser's security systems. The programme allowed him to choose the views from the hundreds of security cameras installed all over the cruiser. Clicking on the one he wanted, a new window opened to show the footage taken from the corridor just outside Isaacs' room. He saw the scientist running away from the camera's focus like a bat out of hell followed shortly by Jason, who had the all important briefcase in hand. Changing views swiftly, he followed their leg race down hallways and several barely occupied sitting areas before Jason finally lost sight of Isaacs. The scientist had successfully ditched him.

Opening a new window to follow their separate routes, Renatus spared a moment to check on 'Basil'. It seemed that the other boy had retreated somewhere, probably his own room, rather than chase after Isaacs like Jason had. Clever boy.

Looking back up at the two other people on his screen, Renatus noticed that, some time during the chase, Jason had taken the time to remove his balaclava and harness as well as hidden his gun somewhere on his person. A good decision if he did not want people to start screaming 'bloody murder!'.

Taking out his mobile, Renatus watched the two anxious figures with an almost lazy expression, a very satisfied smile on his face. He scrolled through his long list of contacts, looking for one particular number. On one side of the screen, Jason was making an angry gesture for losing Isaacs. Renatus's smile widened when he found the number he was looking for, and dialed.

_~~~~~~~ When Circumstances Clash ~~~~~~~_

Jason had just managed to hide his gun under his jacket when they turned a corner and a lady with a cleaning trolley came up ahead. Isaacs yanked it roughly behind him as he ran past, the plump service lady shrieking at the abrupt and uncouth action. Jason didn't even slow down or try to maneuver the trolley out of the way. Taking two fast strides, he deftly leaped across the trolley like an Olympic athlete and continued after the scientist.

The two of them ran like their lives depended on it… well, perhaps it was true for one of them at least… until three corners later, Jason turned to find an empty corridor. Not a single soul and no sound of footsteps either. Rushing down another hallway yielded the same result. He'd lost him.

"Fuck!"

Jason ran an irate hand through his short brown hair, pacing slightly and trying to regain the breath he'd lost during the chase. The briefcase felt even heavier than before in his hand. Jason glanced down at it then made a frustrated gesture. He had the case but he'd let the target escape. Not good. His employer wouldn't be happy about this. Huffing, he tried to think of the best course of action to take to ensure that the scientist was rightfully dead before the end of the day.

Interrupting his thoughts was his vibrating cell phone.

Jason didn't recognize the number and glanced both ways slightly before answering.

"Yeah?"

"He's one floor above you. Casino."

The voice was male and young. Couldn't have been older than himself. But what stumped Jason was how this person could have gotten his number. Or better yet, how the hell did he know about what he was doing? Jason didn't make it a habit to give random strangers his number. Only people who'd be interested in his career would have it, and even then they rarely shared it even amongst themselves. And as far as he knew, only his employer knew about this job. The big man had told him explicitly that it was important to keep it quiet. So how in god's name did the _boy_ know about this? And how……

Jason's eyes swiveled upwards. There, on the ceiling five metres in front of him, a small hemisphere stuck out of the cream coloured plaster. He could just see the lens of a camera, glinting off the light from the hallway. It was one of the ship's surveillance cameras, but Jason knew first hand just how easy it was to hack into a holiday cruiser's security systems.

"Who is this?" he asked, staring intently at the camera diagonally above him. All he received in reply was a dead tone as the other person hung up.

The edges of his lips pulled into a frown and he narrowed his eyes at the camera, hoping that whoever was watching could see his displeasure. Putting his phone away, he turned and quickly made his way towards where the caller had said Isaacs would be. He'd give the boy the benefit of the doubt for the moment. Anyone who had his number, knew about his assignment and had the skills to hack into a moderately tight security system had to be someone to be taken seriously. Jason didn't see how that someone would have anything to do with him currently but he'd figure it out when he didn't have a scientist to kill.

Arriving at the entrance to the cruiser's onboard casino, Jason took a moment to lean casually against a semi-secluded wall, discreetly surveying the scene. Isaacs was talking to one of the guards stationed at the casino entrance. A rapid conversation and much arm-waving later, Jason watched with narrow eyes as the guard reached for the small black radio clipped to his uniform and began to talk into it.

'_Dammit. There goes any thought of possibly enjoying this goddamned cruise.' _

Cautious as to not be seen, the mercenary quickly but unobtrusively made his way back to his room. Plans for compromise and damage control were already formulating in his head.

First and foremost, he'd had to hide the briefcase. Then, get rid of the Beretta. It was a waste of a good firearm but he'd been in his trade long enough to know that when something can be avoided, it is to be avoided at all costs. Besides, even though Isaacs had probably been to busy running to notice the make of the gun, the blond kid had had a pretty good look at it. And Jason knew how these situations worked. With a cruise liner loaded with people rich enough to finance a small war in a third world country, the security service wasn't going to just let this go. There'll be searches and interviews and random checks. So promise or not, there's a high possibility that the kid will talk, given enough pressure. And being another spoilt rich brat, he doubted the kid would last long under that kind of stress.

_~~~~~~~ When Circumstances Clash ~~~~~~~_

Alex leaned back onto the king sized bed as he finished sending the confirmation signal to MI6 through his modified iPod. It was one of his favourite contraptions, especially when he was stuck waiting for something to happen on a mission. Such as now. Fetching a pair of earphones, he set the device to start at a random track and relaxed.

Alex knew that there was pretty much nothing for him to do now. Once MI6 arrived, he would probably be snuck into a short meeting to give his immediate on-site report, but other than that, he would have to maintain his cover. All the way to Sweden and back. had explained to him earlier on that even if all went well, they couldn't pull Alex out prematurely, to avoid the suspicion of identity theft. God knows what sort of trouble it would cause if people noticed that Basil Maitland had gone missing after a bunch of government officials showed up. On the bright side, if MI6 wrapped the mission up quickly, he'd be free to enjoy himself on board a real cruiser liner. A first for Alex, if he remembered correctly. He would have to be careful not to be too conspicuous but it wouldn't stop him from having a good time. He deserved some of that.

Close to an hour of monotony passed before Alex snapped out of his boredom and song induced daze. MI6 had still not arrived yet. Stretching lightly from where he was sprawled over the dark red bed covers, he stood and figured he should change out of the formal tuxedo he was still wearing from the noon party. Just as he was undoing his white dress shirt, a knock sounded from the sitting room where the main suite door was located.

'_Finally.' _

Not bothering to redress, Alex walked out of the bedroom to the door, fully expecting the expressionless face of an MI6 agent. Crawley, perhaps? But what he came face to face with, when he swung open the door, was a handsome teenager.

Renatus's icy blue eyes roamed from his surprised face to his half exposed chest to the rest of his clothed body before coming back up to rest upon his face again. The smile on the dark haired teenager's lips widened just the tiniest bit at the corners.

"Bad time?"

Alex was certain the seductive purr he heard in that question was simply a figment of his embarrassment. He was suddenly painfully aware of the three undone buttons of his shirt. It was through many years of practice that he managed to keep the mortified blush from creping onto his face.

"Uh… No. I was just, um… listening to some music."

"Right." The little smile was still there. "May I come in?"

Alex didn't see an excuse he could use to get out of the situation. Plus, it would be somewhat odd if he turned Renatus away seeing as they were supposedly friends from 'before'. So it was with an awkward gesture that he invited the other in.

The dark haired boy looked around the plush sitting room with a polite but disinterested gaze before turning back to him. That smile on his lips seemed to grow again.

"Hiding, are you?"

Alex immediately tensed. "What?"

Renatus looked surprised for a moment. "I assumed you knew. The cruise's security is going barmy. Apparently there was some madman out with a gun. Chased a poor bloke all over the ship. Luckily the guest managed to escape. They're searching through everyone now. To the displeasure of many people."

Alex took a moment to reconcile what he knew to what he'd just heard from Renatus. So Isaacs had managed to escape from the thief and now the entire ship knew about their little chase. This would make things slightly more difficult once MI6 got here. With tensions running high amongst the passengers, they'd have to come up with a good explanation when they show up to search the ship.

Alex looked back to Renatus. The other boy had seated himself at one of the overstuffed armchairs and was contently staring at him in curiosity.

"Is there something wrong?"

"No. Just thought it odd that you're here by yourself. Most boys our age and standing would have a companion with them on cruises like these. Chaperone, bodyguard, friend,… lover."

"My girlfriend opted to stay in France. She is sometimes difficult to persuade." replied Alex, playing by his cover.

"How unfortunate." Renatus hummed lightly in response. And Alex started to stress. He could handle high end social calls like these just fine, but never with someone of his own age. He wasn't quite sure what was safe to talk about. Fortunately, Renatus saved him the trouble when he started to comment on the various political states of European nations. Once they'd exhausted that topic, Renatus had moved onto 'Basil's experience in France and Alex was finding it hard to continuously conjure up spontaneous lies. It was a relief when respite came in the form of Renatus's ringing mobile.

"It's my friend. He's looking for me. Shall I invite him to join us?"

'_No, you shan't.'_ "Of course." Alex was getting rather tired of lying through his teeth but there was hardly any other answer he could give. Besides, Renatus's company wasn't unpleasant. Despite what had happened earlier, the other boy was a very considerate person. Calm, insightful, refined, intelligent. Every bit a dignified child from a privileged background. Somewhere in his subconscious, Alex made a mental note that if he ever had to do a similar mission sometime in the future, Renatus was the perfect persona to emulate.

Alex slipped into his suite's tiny kitchenette while the other boy sent a message over to his friend. He returned with expensive bottled cocktails for the both of them. Not his first choice of drink but the small fridge in the kitchenette had nothing else to offer. Renatus seemed pleased with the selection though. He accepted the Electric Jam and left the Highball for Alex, who took a small sip of the green liquid and immediately had to suppress the urge to gag. He'd never been a fan of alcohol and the sharp bitter tang of the cocktail left an itchy, burning feeling at the back of his throat

'_Must be an acquired taste.__ I'm sure I'll get it when I'm older.' _

Renatus, on the other hand, seemed very pleased with his drink. He sipped leisurely at it, staring intensely at Alex over the bottle. Alex was sure it was the alcohol burning up when heat started to gather around his neck regions.

They managed to nurse a bit of small talk between them before a knock sounded on Alex's door for the second time that day. Assuming this was the friend Renatus had been talking about, Alex got up to open it. On the other side stood yet another striking teenager. But unlike Renatus, who had greeted Alex with amusement and a hint of something else, this boy regarded him with something akin to coldness. Where Renatus's eyes were icy in colour, the stranger's deep blue eyes were icy in nature. They took in Alex's apparel with a single dismissive glance before returning to drill into his head. Before Alex became too uncomfortable under that stare, a summons came from behind him.

"Tax."

Stepping aside to allow the new boy in, Alex's trained eyes didn't miss the boy's quick scrutiny of his sitting room, pausing slightly at the cocktail bottles before stopping at Renatus, who had stood up from his reclined position on the armchair.

"I see you found me. Allow me to introduce you. Tax, this is Basil Maitland, my childhood playmate. Basil, this is Tax Manuel, my closest friend."

"Delighted."

Tax's voice was deep and he extended his hand towards Alex, a chilly little smile on his face. When Alex reached out to grasp that hand, he felt the taller boy squeeze a lot more than what was necessary. He had a feeling this Tax didn't like him very much.

"I was just catching up with Basil. He had not been aware that the ship's security was doing checks on the passengers after the mad gunman incident."

"Yes, about that…" Tax shifted his gaze from Alex to Renatus. "They're about to search the area where our rooms are located. I assumed you'd want to be there when they rifle through our stuff." Alex noticed that Tax's accent was American as opposed to Renatus's perfect English lilt.

Renatus nodded. "Of course." Then he turned to Alex. "It's been a pleasure, Basil. I do hope we speak again some time soon."

Alex muttered some similar polite farewells and saw them to the door. Once it was closed behind them, he sighed in relief and walked back to his bedroom, intent on finishing his interrupted attempt at changing. Perhaps he'd toss in a shower as well. It was tiring playing the role of a rich kid.

_~~~~~~~ When Circumstances Clash ~~~~~~~_

Renatus walked leisurely back to his suite with Tax by his side. He could feel the aggravated tension emanating from the taller boy but his busy thoughts prevented him from paying much attention to his lover.

'Basil' was talented. He was natural, charming, divertive, and could lie with a perfectly straight face. He was able to make up excuses on the spot and seemed to remember just how much he could reveal and how much was too much. Yes, he was very good. But not good enough. Or maybe Renatus was just better. After all, he'd been doing this ever since he was old enough to understand the definition of the term 'deception'.

The meeting had provided him with some interesting clues as to 'Basil's relative identity. Renatus already knew what the other boy was after, just not who he worked for. A young instrument like him had neither skills nor the resources to be operating alone and was sure to be working for someone bigger. The question was, who? Besides the obviously involved parties, no one was supposed to know about the weapon. Renatus had been quite annoyed, no matter how entertained, when he contemplated the thought that they had a mole somewhere. A situation which was not acceptable on any level.

But back to the matter at hand. So far, Renatus had determined that 'Basil' was a relatively fresh spy, though not exceedingly inexperienced. The boy was still somewhat capable of becoming flustered, especially when Renatus projected sexual allure behind his actions. It made the blonde look so… cute. Plus, he could still see the raw goodness and innocence lurking behind those baby blue eyes, which he had been able to tell, by the second glance, were coloured contacts. Veteran spies didn't exhibit that quality. They were too weathered, too battered by all the things they'd seen to show that level of purity and honesty. As they say, the eyes are the window to the soul, and the soul of a spy is not pretty. Renatus knew that first hand.

So, who can he eliminate first? With his intelligence access, he knew he could pretty much exclude petty, bureaucratic Interpol and sweet, obedient Scotland Yard. And he couldn't see the Americans fitting into this, but one can never be too sure. So, that was a few down.

'_The boy could be from the Russians but, hmm… it hardly seems like their work.__ Too thorough, using a British teenager with in-depth European knowledge. Too much of a pointless hassle to educate him. Europol?' _

No, not likely. Despite the possibility of a leak, Renatus knew that their own primary security alone was still strong enough to keep out straying foreign agents. An inside tattler, then? He was disinclined to believe so. Just the mere suspicion of such a thing can single-handedly destroy half a dozen people. No one Renatus knew was that stupid. But somebody must have talked for this to happen……

Too many variables, too little information. No matter though; he was already a third of the way to mission completion. Once Jason manages to finish the second half of his assignment, it would only be a case of picking up the unfinished pieces. He'd have plenty of time to figure out 'Basil' after that. Then he could spend the rest of his summer time with Tax on his yacht in Italy. If 'The Powers That Be' allow, that is. Now, all he could do was wait and play his part. He was confident that by the time the cruise was over, he'd be done with this little rebellious escapade.

Arriving back at his suite, Renatus casually swiped the card key across the reader and swung the large door open. Even with his thoughts effectively preoccupied, the teen wasn't distracted enough to miss the sudden movement from behind him. Angling his body, he met the abrupt pressure against his chest readily, voluntarily backing into one of the walls around the entryway. The door slipped shut beyond him with a soft click.

'_Oh, yes. I'd almost forgotten.' _

The breath was warm against his ear, the voice deep with a hint of a growl.

"You didn't tell me you met your _childhood playmate_ at the party."

Renatus smirked imperceptibly. It would be so easy to bait the other, but he thought better of it. "He's not." He answered succinctly.

The pressure lessened slightly as vaguely confused dark blue eyes gazed down at him.

"Basil is currently still in France. Last I heard from him, he was having lunch with his girlfriend at **La plus belle avenue du monde.**Therefore, this situation is quite amusing, **non**?"

Tax stared penetratingly at him, perhaps understanding that the topic of conversation had moved out of his area of expertise. Nevertheless, he narrowed his eyes at Renatus a moment later.

"Is that why he was half dressed, and you were having alcohol with him? Alone?"

But Renatus was ready with a counter. "As though I can't smell the scent of cigars hanging off your clothes. Cuban?" He eyed Tax coolly. Indeed, the moment Tax had moved close to him, the peppery, leathery, burnt taste of tobacco had stuck to the back of his throat. It irritated him.

Tax looked smug. "No, Nicaraguan."

Renatus did what was the equivalent of a shrug and pushed Tax off his chest. But the American had other ideas. Tightening his hold on Renatus, he slammed him back into the wall and kissed him harshly. One knee pushed itself between Ren's legs and hands tugged roughly at his shirt, pulling it out of its pristinely tucked position. Fingers found their way onto naked skin and Tax pinned the shorter teen flush against the wall.

Ren surrendered control of the kiss. He knew what Tax was trying to do. And it entertained him to no end. He let Tax suck and nip almost painfully on his lower lip and trap him so sinfully against the wall, one thigh pressed where it rubbed oh so deliciously……

When they parted for breath, Ren ran his nose along Tax's jaw line, drifting up to his ear. "I know something we can do to ease some of this… stress." He whispered suggestively, hands wandering under Tax's shirt to splay long fingers against a flat stomach. Tax shuddered lightly in delight. Ren smiled.

'_He makes it too easy som__etimes.' _

_~~~~~~~ When Circumstances Clash ~~~~~~~_

Frank Martin was a simple man, and he didn't ask for much. He was happy with his life, his job, his cozy little Mexican villa on the Gulf of California. Not that the last one mattered all that much seeing as he was only ever there for very short periods of time. Usually for several days to a fortnight at the most. Then he'd receive orders for another job and he'd leave again. It made having a dog impossible but he didn't complain. He had enough money to live comfortably and afford some luxuries if he wanted. And his job kept him sharp and busy. He was content with what he had. But years of everything going smoothly had not dulled his ingrained sense of paranoia.

Which was perhaps the reason why the over simplicity of the current job made him feel such an overt sense of wrongness.

Frank stared at the locker in front of him, trying to discern any sort of clue as to what was inside, who had placed it there, and what this entire job was all about. He'd received notification of a new assignment only two days ago and had to immediately start packing. The notification had come through e-mail, with an address which he did not recognize, but whose sender he did.

The orders had been simple. Go to Sweden and pick up an object from a postal storage locker. Keep the object safe and someone will come to retrieve it from him a few days later. A plane ticket to and fro Sweden had already been prepared for him. All he had to do was provide his given alias and he'd been whisked off to a commercial flight. A perfectly normal one. Once he reached Halland, he signed into the hotel the e-mail had mentioned and found that a deluxe room for one 'Ignatio Suarez' had already been booked and paid for via money transfer through online bank accounts. Which Frank was pretty sure had been erased as soon as the transaction was done.

It was all so easy… efficient… unproblematic that something must be at works in the background. His sense of doubt just wouldn't let the suspicion go to rest.

The locker seemed harmless and unassuming, which made the whole matter worse. Frank pursed his lips as he took a small black case out of his pocket. Reservations and distrust were ripe on the back of his tongue as he picked the lock of the locker with experienced fingers. The lock became undone with a click, and Frank paused.

He knew it would probably make him feel really foolish if it turned out to be nothing, but it wouldn't be the first time someone tried to kill him through an assignment. In his line of work, the enemies of his clients see him as fair, and sometimes better, game. He'd picked up a healthy sense of self perseverance since then. It could be a motion-sensing bomb in that locker for all he knew.

Ah well. He'd accepted that his job was hazardous to his health since the very start when he chose this profession. And he wasn't going to let his suspicions overcome his ability to do his job.

Tugging open the locker, Frank peered inside to see…… a thick black briefcase. How _in_conspicuous.

Frank refrained from rolling his eyes as he reached out for the handle of the briefcase. This was the moment of truth. If it was a bomb, he probably won't be around to see the aftermath but if it wasn't, then it pretty much eliminates other possibilities.

'_Except a time__d bomb.'_ His kind consciousness told him.

Hefting the case out, Frank paused just slightly.

Nothing.

No grand fireball of explosion to tear his body apart and fling his limbs across the earth.

'_Well, that was a waste of a good morning spent stressing over this stupid case.' _

Frank lifted the briefcase up for a closer look. A combination lock and another which needed a key. He weighted the case. Not too heavy but not light either. It felt filled, packed. Whatever was inside either had protection or it was huge and took up the entire space inside the briefcase. But it didn't matter to him whichever way. He was just the transporter.

Walking back to his rented car, Frank casually slipped out his cell phone. No matter that the briefcase was probably as harmless as it looked, the entire thing still bugged him. Normally he wouldn't have accepted a job so doubtful, if not for the sender of the e-mail.

**Anceps.** Latin for two-edged.

Anceps had been a client of his for more than four years now and Frank had no reason to refuse the job. Though he'd never met the man, the pay had always been well and promises given were always delivered. But Frank wasn't stupid. While the things he'd been told to transport before weren't exactly illegal, some of them made him think. Deeply. Whoever Anceps was, he wasn't operating along the fine lines of governments.

However, this particular job had noticeably _more_ finesse than Anceps' normal requirements. Everything had been perfectly arranged; the flight, the hotel, the money needed. It made the job seem rushed, urgent, regardless of the effort it would have taken to ensure the immediate flight and money transfer. Before this job, Frank had always had to struggle through the messiness and pettiness of the little things by himself. Whatever the briefcase contained, Anceps (if it was even Anceps) needed it fast. The sudden difference in attitude from Anceps made Frank wonder if maybe this wasn't an imposter.

Dialing a number he remembered by heart, Frank set to find out more about this job. Even if it wasn't what he suspected, it was high time he learned a bit more about Anceps anyway.

_~~~~~~~ When Circumstances Clash ~~~~~~~_

"…ah—… haa… Tax…"

Tax greedily feasted his eyes. Ren was moaning into the pillow and panting hard beneath him. He leaned down, pressing his chest against Ren's back, lips moving to suck on an earlobe. Ren ached hungrily up into him, shuddering.

"You like that?" he whispered, voice heavy and deep with lust.

Ren didn't bother to answer, moaning obscenely as he writhed on the bed.

Yes, this was right. This was where Ren should be; purring with pleasure from his attentions and positively begging for more. Not with some rich blonde punk whose infatuation with Ren had been blatantly obvious to anyone with one eye.

Earlier, when the door had opened and Tax had come face to face with some blonde jock whose clothes look like they'd been in the process of being taken off, his good humor from a successful deal had shot out the metaphorical window like a rocket propelled grenade. When he'd moved into the room and saw the cocktail bottles, he was pushed even further. But what clinched it was when Ren had introduced the loser as his _childhood playmate_. The level of intimacy that term indicated had caused him to lose it. He hoped that asshole was still smarting from the handshake. Sucker.

Below him, Ren shifted. He must have realized that Tax's mind had drifted and he wanted it back in the room. Tax planted a kiss on a shoulder and leaned back up, moving his hands to the area of Ren's tailbone. He worked his way up, rolling his knuckles on the muscles along the way. His lover melted again under his touch, returning to that state of boneless putty of sensitive nerves. His cries were absolutely delicious. The smell of sex, honey, and musk from the massage oil was permeating every corner of the bedroom and it was struggle for Tax to not submit to his desires. He knew that was what Ren was trying to accomplish, crying out like that. His lover knew exactly what would push Tax over the edge. He was as much in control now, lying naked between Tax's legs, as he was every second of their relationship. And Tax loved it.

Leaning back down, Tax moved his fingers lower, teasing the delicate skin of Ren's inner thighs. He sucked on Ren's neck, one hand caressing circles inches from his lover's groin, the other massaging the area below the shorter teen's left shoulder blade. Ren's breathing was starting to hitch slightly and Tax knew he'd nearly got him. He pressed down, knowing full well that Ren could feel the complete length of his rock hard cock against the cleft of his ass. He was so close now……

The passionate sonata of Maurice Ravel's 'Bolero' filled the room.

Tax stilled. Ren's mobile was ringing next to where Tax had hastily discarded his crucifix. A thousand and one disgruntled shouts of obscenities ran across Tax's mind.

Ren whined in complaint and wriggled beneath him. "No, don't stop…"

Tax looked down and grinned. His fingers continued their slow advancement towards Ren's no doubt erect cock as his lover squirmed across the bed to reach the nightstand. The moment Ren glanced at his mobile's screen though, the shorter boy froze completely. Relaxed muscles tensed and Ren's entire demeanor screamed alertness. Tax immediately stopped.

"What? Who is it?"

"My Lord and Master." Ren answered him half jokingly. And half seriously.

Any sort of protest Tax might have had died in his throat. He knew better than to object when it came to _that man._ It was bad enough that _he_ barely tolerated his relationship with Ren, Tax didn't need to give _him_ additional reason to make Ren's life more difficult. He was silent even when Ren unceremoniously flipped him onto the bed when he moved out from beneath him. Ren sat with his back to Tax at the edge of the bed and answered the call.

Tax watched mutely from behind. He knew what the call was probably about and he didn't know how he should feel about it. He knew very little of what Ren did in his 'work' but what little he did know, he didn't like. Ren was too young and no matter what the other teen thought about himself, he was too untainted to do this sort of 'work'. They'd been in a physical relationship for more than a year now and had known each other for far longer than that. He'd seen Ren grow from a proud young boy to an even more arrogant young man. Perhaps through his experiences, Tax had become blind to the fact that Ren might be capable of sin. So he'd bitten his tongue and turned his head from anything relating to Ren's supposed job. The less he knew, the better. For the both of them. But sometimes……

Though he was hardly anyone to talk, considering what his family did for a living. It would make him the most hypocritical person on earth.

"—yes…… MI6? Interesting… yes, I think they have someone on board… yes…" Ren shifted sideways. "No, Jason has it but he hasn't finished the second half of the contract…… understood…." There was a lull in the conversation when Ren suddenly shot him a quick glance. Then he looked away with a small, silent sigh. "Understood."

Tax moved closer to Ren after he'd ended the call. His lover was probably in trouble again because of their relationship. But when he opened to mouth to ask, Ren turned to him with a sly smile.

"MI6, huh? Looks like there'll be an intriguing turnout."

Tax blinked as Ren put away his mobile. If Ren didn't want to talk about it, it was fine with him. Snagging one arm, he tugged his lover back onto the bed and swiftly resumed his position above Ren, facing him this time. The other teen peered up at him with burning eyes. And Tax just stared.

There Ren lay before him. Naked, beautiful, indomitable, powerful, every inch exuding control, but oh so sweet for the taking.

It was such a fucking turn on.

_~~~~~~~ When Circumstances Clash ~~~~~~~_

Alex was desperate. He'd exhausted the iPod, wasted the GameBoy, gotten bored of reading, watched three mind-numbing comedy episodes, and redid his luggage inventory. Several times. He was ready to start moving furniture around the suite when the soft sounds of helicopters were heard from outside his balcony.

Muttering a hallelujah under his breath and cursing MI6 for _always_ being fashionably late, the blonde teenage spy calmly made his way to one of the cruiser's upper lounges nearest to the emergency helipad. It'd be the first place MI6 would go to after speaking with the captain and head of security. Alex preferred to go to them and give his on-site report as soon as possible before everything became even messier later once the searches started. It'd make his life so much simpler.

Arriving there, he took time in noticing the particular lounge he was in. They were serving early tea and some pastry snacks. Several people were about, mostly older folk who seemed content to just laze around for the rest of the day till dinner. The entire right wall was made of glass panels which gave an awe inspiring view of the North Sea. Sauntering over to one of the long tables, Alex helped himself to a glass of chilled tea. He put on an act of looking bored as he sat down at one of the armchairs. It wasn't hard; Alex _was_ nearly bored out of his mind. He couldn't go to some of the more crowded areas of the cruiser for fear of missing MI6.

Still, it was a good half a dull hour later before the unremarkable face of John Crawley, along with half a dozen men, came into view at the lounge. Alex expertly remained impassive. The MI6 agent had obviously seen him and was making discreet signs for him to move out into the hallway. Finishing his tea, Alex stood and casually walked out of the lounge. Several minutes later, Crawley emerged and led him to an unused anteroom.

"Alex." Crawley nodded in greeting. "I assume all is well?"

"Not as well as can be." Alex answered haltingly.

Crawley raised an eyebrow.

"I found the weapon, or the briefcase containing it, but someone else knows about it too. When I went to retrieve it, a masked man forced me to give it up. It looks as though he intends to kill Isaacs too. He took the briefcase but I've got no way of finding him again. And I'm sure you heard from the ship's security about Isaacs little charade."

"Yes, but you don't need to worry about that. I have men searching the ship as we speak. We'll find the weapon and whoever's holding it. Isaacs, on the other hand, won't be a problem. He hardly seems inclined to leave the protection given by the ship's security."

"Alright. What do you need me to do now?"

"Just hang around for a bit, see if anything turns up. We'll set up a temporary office in the lounge. Once we leave, you'll be free to spend the rest of your holiday as you see fit."

For the first time that day, Alex gave a genuine smile and Crawley smiled back. Through the course of their careers, the two had become loose friends. It was inevitable when the older man was the only person Alex could really trust to be on his side whenever he was on a mission away from home.

"What are you going to tell the ship about MI6's involvement?" Alex asked.

"Well, we're saying that we received intel that a bomb's been placed onboard. We even brought our own bomb disposal squad to make the lie look more convincing."

Alex laughed at the cheeky answer. Soon though, he was checking the hallway before stepping out of the anteroom. Crawley left with a discreet wave and Alex returned to the lounge, taking the older agent's suggestion.

'_It's going to be a_ long_ wait.' _

_~~~~~~~ When Circumstances Clash ~~~~~~~_

Sam cursed repeatedly under his breath as he splashed his face with freezing water from the sink faucet. It had all been going so well for the first couple of days that he'd relaxed his guard. As a result, all hell broke loose. He'd admit that he knew the probability of him getting out of the country without being tracked was negligible at best, but to have an assassin sent after him? …… no, it wasn't overdone, not with _that man_…… Sam knew that when he accepted that deal from the Russians, his life was as good as forfeit if even a tiny whisper of it got out. It looked as though it did. Again, something he predicted. The past two months, he'd nearly pissed himself at work everyday, mentally cowering from the thought that he could be killed at any second. The man he worked for never forgives but he does forget… after he wiped you off from the face of the earth, that is. Frankly, Sam was surprised he'd lived this long. It gave him the confidence to see this deal through. After that, he'd find some way or other to stay invisible.

Knowing all the dangers, knowing that he'd probably be murdered in the most horrific manner possible if his employer had his way, most people would think him mad to have agreed to this arrangement. But in that one second of madness, reading that e-mail from Russia, he'd seen his whole future flash before his eyes. A no name scientist working for a man who had the entire world fooled. Wasting all his potential and intellect till he was drained dry or too old to be of any use and then disposed of, or possibly sent away to some far off place where he would not be a danger of exposing critical information. All his accomplishments, no matter how great, unacknowledged, unknown. A life of non-existence.

It had all been too much for Sam. As a scientist, he wanted to be acknowledged for his abilities. A Nobel Prize was impossible for him, but still he wanted people to know that Sam Isaacs created the amazing things he did. All the accessibilities and opportunities in the world were not worth being a nobody. Even if it meant being an agent of death. The weapon he'd created was devastating, and its beauty was in the specifics of its devastation. However, because of that, he'd known beyond a doubt that it would never be used. Which played a part in pushing him to this point. People would think that he did it for money. But Sam just wanted to be acknowledged. A simple desire.

Turning off the faucet, Sam dried his face off with a clean towel from the rack. He'd ducked into the bathroom after his nerves got the better of him. His guard, provided by the ship's security, was still outside in the room they had temporarily allocated him to.

'_This whole situation is a nightmare.'_ thought Sam edgily as he hurled the damp towel into a hamper. _'Walking back to your room and finding a masked assassin waiting for you has got to be the worst thing anyone could think of.'_ But Sam hadn't been unprepared. The ship's security had him covered for now. Not for long though. Perhaps he'd slip away later when they ported at Denmark. No need to give his employer any more chances to have his body dumped into the ocean.

'_Though,'_ Sam shivered uncertainly. _'he'd require remarkably less than an ocean to make someone disappear.' _

_~~~~~~~ When Circumstances Clash ~~~~~~~_

Alex was uneasy, Crawley was agitated, and Agent James Norrington was confused.

"Agent Crawley from MI6?"

"Yes. And who might you be?"

"Agent James Norrington. Interpol, Denmark branch. We received word from Captain Barbossa that a bomb's been placed on the cruiser. We're here to assist you and provide any help we can in dispersing the threat."

As if that wasn't bad enough, Agent Norrington, who'd arrived via helicopter approximately ten minutes ago, then helpfully informed them that half a dozen Interpol patrol ships were making their way to them as they speak, each carrying a team of bomb disposal unit operatives complete with canine companions.

Alex discreetly watched from the side as Crawley tried, for the third time, to convince the Interpol agent that MI6 _did not_ need their help in locating the bomb on the cruiser. Especially since there wasn't any. But of course, they couldn't tell him that.

The hushed conversation from halfway across the lounge was rapidly gaining intensity as the Interpol representative argued again that, because of the large number of nationals from their member states, they had every right to be involved in any attempt at maintaining public safety.

Alex could practically feel Crawley's frustration. The older agent was currently in charge of the apprehending of Isaacs and the securing of the weapon. But Interpol's presence was clearly going to get in the way of his mission. There was no bomb to be found, which was only going to lengthen Interpol's stay, and whatever findings MI6 discovered would have to remain secret until the other party was gone. It was a complete headache.

"I thought I'd find you here."

Alex turned his head to find Renatus smiling at him from his left. So focused was he on trying to hear Crawley and Norrington's conversation that he hadn't hear him arrive. The dark haired boy was leaning his hip against the side of an intricate ornamental table, looking decidedly lazy yet elegant at the same time. His clothes were different from before and a mild scent of musk and honey wafted off of him. Alex belatedly realized that Renatus had been expecting a reply from him.

"Why… did you think that?" he was careful to keep his tone neutral.

Renatus shrugged; a smooth gesture. "Well, we're teenagers on a cruise liner full of old people. Naturally when something exciting happens, we'd want to be first ones there. I'd heard, on my way here, that a bomb's been placed onboard and that MI6 is here to help us find it." Renatus's gaze drifted up towards the arguing duo across the lounge. "They don't seem very single-minded."

"Oh." Alex cast a glance at Norrington. "The man on the right is from Interpol. He heard from the captain and is here to help too." Alex explained. He figured Renatus would find out eventually anyway.

"Interpol." Renatus repeated softly. "Well, it's no surprise I suppose, with the number of internationally influential people onboard. I hope the threat is over soon, now that both MI6 and Interpol are present."

Contrary to his true thoughts, Alex made a sound of agreement before movement from behind Renatus gained his attention. Tax had just walked into the lounge and had seen Alex. The taller teen gave him a frosty smile that was bordering a smirk, eyes glinting with just a hint of vindictive arrogance and gratification. Alex blinked and the moment was over, Tax now moving over to the serving table.

'_Just what does he have against me?'_ thought Alex bewilderedly.

"I suppose this will probably leave you a bad impression, seeing as it's your first time back in England after being away for so long." said Renatus, having taken no notice of the odd exchange between his two friends.

Just as Alex opened his mouth to play 'Basil' again, the slightly pudgy form of Reuben Tishkoff appeared next to him. The stature of the middle aged millionaire plainly screamed exasperation as he addressed them.

"Renatus, Basil, how I'm glad to see you boys. I just heard that Interpol is bringing _dogs_ onto the ship. Can you imagine? _Big, slobbering pooches_ running all over the place? I mean, surely they can do better than that? What about those bomb detecting machines they have? They're always boasting about what they can do and all that rot. Well, it's time they show us. Do they seriously expect us to let their mongrels sniff and paw through our property? It's absurd! This whole situation is ridiculous!"

Reuben's face contorted in a manner which suggested that there was something distasteful in his mouth. Continuing to mutter irately under his breath, the older man drifted off towards the small bar fitted into the right wall of the lounge. Alex watched him go with a mildly baffled expression.

"Uncle Reuben's an eccentric person. You'll get used to it." said Renatus with a note of fondness in his voice. "Though, he did raise an interesting point."

Alex turned to look at him and Renatus gave him another one of those smiles which seemed to make him inexplicably uncomfortable.

"Dogs are, without a doubt, the best for locating bombs. Else, the US army wouldn't still be employing the system after decades of service."

"I heard they're good for tracking too." Supplied Alex as a sudden though occurred to him.

Renatus smiled in agreement. They spoke a bit more before Renatus politely excused himself to go sit with Tax. Once he'd left, Alex switched his attention back to Crawley. It seemed the agent had relented to Interpol's insistence to help. Alex imagined he probably did it more out of the desire to avoid suspicion than anything. He watched as Norrington spoke authoritatively into his cell phone.

Alex sighed. He'd been right. It was going to be a looong cruise.

_~~~~~~~ When Circumstances Clash ~~~~~~~_

Renatus sat down next to Tax after serving himself a cup of Earl Grey. Beside him, Tax was helping himself to the assorted biscuits the staff had supplied.

"Interpol's bringing dogs onto the ship."

The half eaten orange meringue was lowered onto the plate below it.

Renatus sipped sedately at his tea. When no further action came from his companion, he gently reached across to select a piece of ginger biscotti from the small pile sitting on Tax's lap.

"Don't you have something to get rid off?" he asked, voice almost a whisper.

Tax sighed in long-suffering resignation and passed the plate on his lap over to Renatus. Then he stood and moved out of the room without a word.

Renatus sipped at his tea, pleased, and watched 'Basil' from out of the corner of his eye.

**Author's Notes:** Man, I am so drunk. My mum just pumped me full of sake… Anyways, after two chapters, I noticed that I have reverted to my usual style of writing; long and sometimes overly detailed. I have that problem. Does anyone else think so? And I feel that Alex didn't get enough screen time here. Hmm… Nothing much happened in this chapter but please, _please _leave a review so that I know what you guys think. The story's about to get convoluted. Another thing. My parents are sending me overseas for Christmas. So the next update might be a little slow. On the bright side, I get the chance to molest my bro-in-law's katanas… *salivate*

Reuben Tishkoff – Ocean's Eleven / Twelve / Thirteen

Francois Toulour – Ocean's Twelve / Thirteen

Kaito Nakamura – (Hiro Nakamura's father) Heroes

Sam Isaacs – Resident Evil: Apocalypse / Extinction

Jason Bourne – The Bourne Series

There are more new characters in this chapter. See if you can spot them. Thanks to all those who reviewed. REVIEW!


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